


As Oedipus

by geniewithwifi



Series: Hero Quintessence [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x15, Breakup Fic, Canon, F/M, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had made a choice, the only choice he saw himself making because he was terrified of this happening. In trying to escape his fate, he caused it to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Oedipus

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is predictive piece to where Felicity finds out. 4x15 It was very cathartic to write this, just to get back in my groove. It’s not perfect and it’s very very ANGSTY and BROODY. We’re in Oliver’s head what do you expect? IT’s a sh*t storm up there all the time. 
> 
> Please feel free to cry or send me wailing gifs. I welcome the grief.

How did he get himself into this?

This wasn’t what he wanted.

This was everything he was fighting against.

This was everything he had been trying to prevent since the moment he made a decision, to be a father for a son, to not be like his father, or Tommy’s father, or Felicity’s father, or anything resembling every kind of father he had ever known. 

His son would know him, on any terms Samantha set. He would be the father William had never had. 

But Felicity wouldn’t. 

Felicity, the love of his life, the bright light to his dim darkness, who would never be another mother to his son because of his mistakes, of his failings. He had reverted back into a secret keeper from his own fiancee, and the gravel fell on Donna’s judgement.: people don’t change.

Oh, how he wanted to believe it. How much convincing it had taken in front of the mirror just to be able to look Felicity in the eyes and  _lie,_ directly to her face. How it was better for William not to be sucked into his life, for him to be safe. 

 

Every excuse he told himself vanished the second Felicity tilted her head that reminded him remarkably of the first time he met her, lips pursed and an intelligent gleam in her eye. Yet, because she  _trusted him,_ an irony in hindsight, she let his explanation of helping Barry in Central City slip past without closer look. 

How naive he had been. 

Just seeing the back of her chair, the one that despite all Laurel’s protests,  _her_ protests, he still blamed himself for. Because if she hadn’t fallen in love with him, then she wouldn’t be in it.

She wouldn’t be walking away from him, the diamond cutting into the palm of his hand from his tight grip on it. The ring he had put on her finger, told her for better or for worse. It didn’t matter that she was injured, he would marry any version of Felicity Smoak that was given to him.

To be frankly honest with himself, this was one of the reasons why he hadn’t proposed until she had coaxed it out of him. He couldn’t ask her to marry him with this gigantic secret that he knew was going to rip them apart, rip _her_ away from him. However she told him that she _chose him._

He didn’t think that she would change her mind.

Through everything they’ve been through, the Undertaking, Slade Wilson, the League of Assassins, Felicity has always been there for him. Through every trial, every mistake, she believed in him, loved him. When he found out about his mother’s secrets, Thea’s parentage, his own stumbling blocks of choices that forced them apart, she supported him.

Until now.

The heartbreak in her eyes from a few seconds ago where seared into the back of his eyelids, burn his tears as they streaked down his cheeks. A sob choked him, his teeth biting the sound, and he fought it, resigned to accept his fate, to accept her choice and to not go after her, not to beg forgiveness for the seventh time, to pick her up and never let her go. Felicity would abhor him if he ever tried to take her freedom from her—her wheelchair did that enough to her.

He loved her enough to not fight for her.

Because this was _his fault._

No matter how he had tried to keep grips on the truth, to remain in his fantasy-land, where everything between them was perfect, somehow it always slipped through his fingers.

His father.

Shado.

Tommy.

His mother.

His sister.

Sara.

Roy.

And now Felicity.

Every person he loved became damaged beyond repair and it wasn’t a short distance to see the similar cause; he was the problem, the corrupter. Every person met him, got wrapped up in his orbit, put themselves in the line of fire and paid a steep price. Every person he loved they left, in one way or another. Some had returned, more damaged than how he left them in the first place Most of them was through the final exit, the finishing act of life- it’s direct opposite. Death.

In a small act of gratitude, she was still alive, still breathing while most of them weren’t. But it seemed to bring more pain than any of them because this was  _her choice._ It wasn’t some unseen act of providence that forced change upon the people he loved, to leave him. Death wasn’t a choice.

This was.

When her wheelchair caught on the edge of the door, an imperfection to her dramatic departure, he involuntarily stumbled forward a step, the desire to help her, protect her,  _love her,_ still thrumming his bones. By sheer will, he stopped himself, digging his heels into the glossy hardwood, jaw clenched. 

He had made a choice, the only choice he saw himself making because he was terrified of this happening. In trying to escape his fate, he caused it to happen. It reminded him of one of those greek tales Felicity had rambled about, somewhere between the Amalfi coast and Positano, of the great hero who tried to avoid his fate, and set it in stone on the highway. Turns out he was just like Oedipus, himself being the executioner of prophecy. Barry warned him but he  _didn’t listen._

And now Felicity was done. Those were her exact words. “I’m done.” She couldn’t take it anymore. Oliver regretted disappointing her, being exactly like her father. A woman who had never been loved, who thought that she could never be loved, he had hurt beyond belief, he had taken a raw wound, and opened it wider. Felicity. His happiness that he had destroyed. Something he had always knew would happen, from the day he realized that he could love her, that day in Russia. He had always seen his poison hurting her. But she had fought so hard, changed his mind, had him believing that he could have it.

Turns out, she was wrong. He hadn’t changed.

The snick of the door behind her was the final note, the resounding epitome that sealed him in, confined and a slave. To love, how bliss it was.

Until it broke.

For even the mighty heroes fall, their mistakes their final nail.

Just as Oedipus.


End file.
